


Of Caffeine and Ink Stains

by perksofbeingauselesslesbian



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tattoo AU, coffee shop AU, well i mean it's sort of modern i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perksofbeingauselesslesbian/pseuds/perksofbeingauselesslesbian
Summary: Basically a coffee shop au and a tattoo au rolled into one.





	1. Booty Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so here we are! This is the brain child of Mari (almoris on tumblr) and I, plus a few small ideas from the weirdos in the Overwatch Discord. I hope you like our trash children.

Fareeha Amari wipes the sweat from her brow with the hem of her tank top and unlocks the door to Overwatch. The café is her mother’s pride and joy, and sometimes she swears Ana loves the shop more than she loves her. 

Fareeha had started working at Overwatch just after her first tour with the Egyptian Armed Forces had ended, as a way to keep her mind and body occupied until she was deployed again. She now worked there between her security jobs at Helix International’s London base, eighteen years, five tours and one honourable discharge later. 

Ana had forced her into taking the morning shift, giving the excuse that she was getting old and that waking up at 4am wasn’t good for her aching bones. They both knew that excuse was bull, but Fareeha took the shift nonetheless. She was awake at that hour anyway, feet on the pavement pounding away the nightmares of her military service.

Fareeha shoulders the door open and sets the coffee machines to warm up. The tables and chairs are set out quickly, her body still buzzing from her early morning run. She hums quietly and makes a mental note to ask Lena how much she charges for her tattoo touch ups. Several of Fareeha’s tattoos were on full display in all their colourful glory, and they were beginning to look a little faded. She’d have to ask Amélie for a second opinion. 

The playlist she had made specifically for her shift mornings was starting to phase out of the quiet classical and into the songs with actual lyrics when a knock sounded from the door. The sun had just begun to bleed through the grimy clouds on the horizon and the rays backlit the person, obscuring any details and softly lighting the flyaway hairs framing their face.

“Two seconds!” Fareeha yells, holding up two fingers. She finishes sweeping the floor and puts the broom away, weaving her way through the tables with practiced ease.

She flicks the dish towel over her shoulder, flips the sign on the door to ‘open’ and screams a little in her head before letting the drop dead gorgeous blonde woman in.

“Sorry for the wait, I don’t usually have people in this early.”

“Scheisse, I’m sorry! I saw you in here and thought you were opening. I can go if you’d like.”

“No, not at all! It’s time I opened anyway. What can I get you?”

“Just a short black please. With an extra shot of espresso.”

Fareeha baulks a little. 

“Sure. Have here or takeaway?”

“Takeaway, please.”

“Can I get a name for that?”

The woman pauses for a second, raising a perfect eyebrow minutely.

“My mother will get up me if I don’t ask every customer. She lives just above,” Fareeha points to the roof, “and I swear she can hear every word I say.”

Two thumps sound from the ceiling, as if someone had stomped on the floor overhead. 

“Angela,” the woman smiles, glancing at the roof.

“Nice to meet you Angela, I’m Fareeha,” Fareeha writes the name on the cup and adds a halo to the ‘A’ on a whim.

“Fareeha. That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” Fareeha can feel her cheeks flushing at Angela’s delicate pronunciation, so she goes to the espresso machine. “Didn’t you sleep very well last night?” she taps the machine as it starts to growl and throws a grin over her shoulder, catching Angela averting her eyes from somewhere in her general direction. 

“Something like that. I haven’t slept yet. I still have to walk home and I swear your coffee can revive people,” Angela fiddles with something in her pocket. “I’m a doctor and I was on call last night.”

“Ah, of course. Forgive me for being nosey,” Fareeha sets the full cup on the counter and slides it over to Angela.

Angela cradles the coffee in her hands and takes a sip, “it’s fine. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. First coffee of the day is on the house.”

“Are you sure?”

“She’s sure Angie. Have a muffin too, you don’t eat enough,” Ana strides in the back door, two large baker’s trays in her arms. 

“Ana I have to start paying for things or you’re going to go bankrupt!”

Fareeha looks between Angela and her mother, more than a little bit confused.

“Angie started coming here at the ass crack of dawn every day just after you left for your last tour,” Ana tosses a muffin each at Angela and Fareeha. “She’s the hotshot head doctor at Mercy’s.”

Angela shrugs and gives a small smile when Fareeha turns to her.

“Except she usually looks more like a zombie. Are you trying to impress someone Angie?”

The tips of Angela’s ears burn red, “oh please. I couldn’t impress someone if I tried.”

Fareeha almost chokes on her muffin.

“What was that Fareeha?” Ana looks at her, a wicked smirk on her face.

“Nothing. I- uh- I have dishes to finish. It was nice meeting you Angela.”

Angela smiles at her, eyes crinkling at the edges, “it was a pleasure meeting you too, Fareeha.”

As she walks into the back room, Fareeha feels a burning gaze blaze across her shoulders, down her arms, to her butt and then to her thighs. She becomes acutely aware that she has still yet to shower and change out of her running gear, and that it is highly unprofessional to serve someone coffee whilst wearing booty shorts.


	2. Jesus bars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so when I said 'London,' I meant hypothetical London, of course. I've never been to London so this is going to be super inaccurate.

After Fareeha had showered in Ana’s apartment (and changed out of her booty shorts), she called Lena.

“Hullo luv!”

“Hello Lena. Why are you awake at…” Fareeha checks the clock hanging above the counter, “five thirty?”

“Well you see, I had some designs to look ov-”

“Morning sex.”

Lena’s shout of ‘Amélie oh my god!’ is faint, but still audible.

“I did not need to know that,” Fareeha groans.

Amélie makes a noncommittal noise, “we’ll be there in about half an hour.” 

There is a noise that Fareeha can’t quite distinguish.

“Actually, make that an hour.”

“Sure thing,” Fareeha shudders.

She slides her phone into her apron and goes back to arranging the cupcakes and cookies to make room for the pastries and muffins. 

“Fareeha, habibti!”

“Yeah Ummi?” Fareeha stands at the bottom of the stairs.

“Can you go and get the order from Aleks and Mei, please?”

“Sure. Where are the car keys? I’m still waiting on the part for my bike.”

A set of keys come flying down the stairs and Fareeha catches them in one hand, “I’ll be back in an hour.” She quickly makes two coffees and a tea to take with her.

“Oh, Amélie and Lena will be here in an hour or so.”

“Good. Maybe some actual work will get done.”

Fareeha laughs and leaves through the front door, walking around the back to the car.

“I work enough for the both of them,” Fareeha shouts up at the open window.

“At least their sexual tension is resolved!” Ana throws a paper bag through the open car door and onto the passenger seat of the car. “When you get home, you’re having a proper breakfast.”

Fareeha rolls her eyes, “yes ummi.” 

She pulls out of the driveway and rolls down the window. 

“Sun’s out, guns out,” she murmurs.

When a few fat drops of rain land on the windshield, she shrugs, “good enough.”

Still sipping at her tea, Fareeha brushes the cheese scone crumbs off her lap as she steps out of the car.

“Ah Fareeha, my friend.”

“Hello Aleks, Mei.”

“Here are the pastries and scrolls that Ana ordered,” Mei hands over several trays of baked goods.

“I will get the bread if you will open the trunk, yes?”

Fareeha clicks the button on the fob and Aleks hefts the bread basket into the car.

“These are for you,” Fareeha hands the two coffees to Aleks, the paper cups dwarfed by her large hands. 

“Thank you!” Mei squeals and grabs at a cup. She sips at it, makes a face, and hands it off to Aleks.

“I must be going; I have sandwiches to make before seven. Thank you for everything. Mother will be around to pay you at the end of the week.”

“No problem!”

“Bye Fareeha!”

Fareeha makes her way back to Overwatch, mindful of the bread and pastries in the trunk.

Lena is there to greet her when she pulls up, her collie dog, Slip, sitting at her feet.

“Hiya,” Lena pulls the basket of bread out of the car. “When you called this morning, did you want to talk about something?”

“Huh? Oh nothing terribly important. Just tattoo prices.”

“Looking for some new ink? Sweet!” She peeks in the pastry tray, “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t something you didn’t want anyone else to hear.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks. That means a lot,” Fareeha gives her a small smile.

“No problem! Now, about that ink: what were you thinking?”

“I just need some touch ups. I wanted to get a second opinion from Amélie too, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing luv! She does have one hell of an eye for colour.”

“Speaking of colour…” Fareeha eyes Lena’s neck.

“Wha-? Oh.”

“That definitely seems like ‘looking over designs,’” Fareeha shuts the trunk, all of the food safely in their arms.

“I reckon it is! Wanna see the other ones?”

“Not at all.”

“Slip, c’mon!”

Amélie is already behind the counter in her apron and Overwatch shirt, talking to Ana in hushed tones. 

“I thought you’d be longer, habibti. Aleks likes to talk.”

“I gave them coffee and made my quick escape.”

“So you’re giving my coffee away now?”

Amélie smirks and Fareeha huffs, “I told them that you would be around at the end of the week. I hope they prepare for you.”

“Why would you wish that upon me, a poor defenceless old lady?”

Fareeha, Amélie and Lena all snort in tandem. Ana chuckles.

Amélie slides Lena a tall coffee and grimaces, “I hate that you make me do that. It ruins perfectly good coffee.”

“It’s delicious luv,” Lena’s eyes spark, “just like y-”

“Okay!” Ana stands up and points, “Fareeha and Amé, you’re on sandwiches. Lena, drink your abomination and stop distracting my favourite employee.”

Fareeha narrows her eyes and flips Ana off.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you habibti?”

“I had tea and that scone you gave me, I’ll be fine.”

Ana crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. 

Fareeha shakes her head, “no, I haven’t.”

“Eat a sandwich when you’re done. I’ll be watching.”

They all chat amicably as Fareeha and Amélie make sandwiches to go in the window, Ana ices cupcakes, and Lena sketches. 

“Well, I gotta bounce,” Lena closes her sketchbook with a slap. “I’ll pick that part up from the Junkers on the way back, Amé.”

“Would you mind if I came with you, Lena? I have to pick up some new brake pads for my bike.”

“Sure thing, as long as you don’t mind doubling,” Lena tosses the now empty cup into the bin by the door. It bounces once on the edge, and goes in.

Lena holds up her hand and Fareeha high-fives her, as does Ana. 

A half-wrapped sandwich is pressed into Fareeha’s hands with a pat on her shoulder.

“Eat it before you leave.”

Fareeha nods and proceeds to eat half of it in three bites.

Lena leans over the counter toward Amélie, “do I get a victory kiss, luv?”

“Non. Not after you made me do that to your coffee.”

“Aww come on.”

“Lena, no.”

“Just one!”

“Oh mon dieu, Lena. No.”

“I know you’re already sweet enough and don’t need any more sugar, but pleeeeease?”

“Will it make you leave?”

“Hmmm, maybe. I’ve gotta get stuff from Genji and Torb, but they’ll understand if I’m late.”

“Ugh. D’accord, come here.”

Amélie kisses Lena tenderly, caressing her face.

Fareeha continues to be very interested in her sandwich wrapper and Ana just rolls her eyes. 

“If you roll your eyes any harder, you’ll go blind in the other eye too,” Amélie speaks up.

Ana snorts ungracefully, “if you’d stop behaving like horny teenagers, I wouldn’t have to. I have my hands full with Fareeha and Angie as it is.”

Lena giggles, “that’d be fun to watch.”

“Oh it is,” Ana smirks. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Sure thing. I’ll take ‘Reeha with me and leave Slip here with you and Amé. Is that okay?”

Ana nods and Fareeha retrieves her jacket and a spare helmet from the back room. 

“Won’t be long. Do you need anything Ummi?”

“No. I have someone coming for lunch and you can join in if you’d like, though.” 

“I’ll think about it. I still have to take Eadala for a run today. I didn’t bring her this morning because I thought my bike would be ready.”

“Ah. Be safe, habibti.”

“She’s always safe with me, Ana.”

“You are the reason I need new brake pads, Lena.”

“Potato, potatoe,” Lena shrugs. “Bye Amé, love you. Be good for your mum, buddy,” Lena pecks Amélie’s cheek and ruffles Slip’s fur. 

Lena and Fareeha walk out of Overwatch and across the street to where Lena had parked her bike in front of her shop. ‘Tracer Ink’ had a garish neon sign befitting of Lena and her fashion choices. Despite its fluorescence, the tattoo parlour attracted many customers from all over the country. It was renowned for the intricate detailing and dot work of Satya Vaswani, the traditional and greyscale style of Reinhardt, and most of all for the brilliant colouring of Lena herself. 

“Do you wanna hop on behind me, or do you wanna get into the sidecar?” Lena giggles a little.

“I’m not Slip. I’ll double with you. I don’t even think my legs would fit,” Fareeha tucks her hair up into the helmet and waits until Lena has started the bike to swing her leg over and sit behind her.

“Ya can hold around my waist mate, it’s okay to be scared,” Lena grins, before tapping her ridiculous orange visor closed.

Fareeha pinches her side underneath the jacket, and laughs when Lena yelps. “In your dreams, short stack.”

She flips down her golden visor as Lena pulls away, hands on what Amélie has lovingly dubbed ‘the Jesus bars.’ 

Fareeha wasn’t completely sure of the story, but she wasn’t about to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another chapter or two already written after this one, just finishing the introductions of the other characters n stuff. I actually have no actual plot planned, but I'm sure I can think of something.  
> Yell at me on tumblr @earp-haught I might post snippets or whatever if you want me to. Also follow Mari on tumblr @almoris for more gay shit


	3. not entirely legal brake pads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Fareeha run errands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back in Australia and in my own home! This is for the celebration of not having to be in super close proximity with my family any more.

A short while later, (thanks to Lena’s driving…skills) they pull into the carpark of ‘Torbjorn’s Toolbox.’

“Torb!” Lena shouts over the clanging of metal and loud music. “Torb!” There’s a loud crash and a string of curses.

“Lena! Getcher ass in ‘ere kid!”

Lena darts across the room, dodging the various unfinished projects and bits of scrap, “comin’!”

Fareeha halts, a little at loss for what to do. She hadn’t seen Torbjorn since her army farewell party.

“You too ‘Reeha! I could use your height!”

“Oi!”

The dwarf of a man is sitting on a rolling chair when Fareeha walks into the room, Lena beside him.

“Now hold that still, kid.”

Lena nods and holds the pliers tight.

“’Reeha, can ye grab the hammer from the tall shelf?”

Fareeha hands Torbjorn the wooden mallet from the top of a tall cupboard.

“Wrong one,” he says, throwing it over his shoulder and narrowly missing Fareeha’s knees.

“That’s the only tall shelf and the only hammer on it?” She says, not meaning to pose it as a questions but doing so anyway.

Torbjorn looks up, squinting. “Ah, so it is. Must be around here somewhere,” he rifles through the many things attached to his belt. “Aha!”

He produces a domed hammer out of nowhere and swings it experimentally. He whacks the object between the pliers a few times, before giving a satisfied grunt.

“Wonderful. ’Reeha, you can take this to yer mother.”

He tosses her the thing from between the pliers. Fareeha doesn’t know what it could even be, but she pockets it anyway.

“Have ya got my stuff Torb? I told Genji I’d be at his sometime today.”

“Yes, yes. Didn’t take long to make at all. Good fun, good fun,” he murmurs.

Lena walks in to the front room (the tidiest by far), and places a bottle on the counter. Torbjorn shuffles in a moment later, a cardboard box in his hands. He slides it over to Lena and she checks its contents while he makes several grabs for the bottle.

Fareeha pushes it toward his gloved fingers without making eye contact.

“Everything is here. Cheers Torb!” Lena gives a two fingered salute and skips out of the shop. 

Fareeha can still feel his glare on the back of her head, even as they’re riding away. 

It’s not her fault he’s so short.

\--

Genji greets them from behind the counter when they enter his shop, “The Jade Dragon.” They have jasmine tea in the back room and talk about how Zenyatta’s class of pre-schoolers were driving Genji up the wall. 

“I never get to spend time with him,” Genji pouts.

“It’ll be fine mate. The little ankle biters have to go on holiday sometime.”

Genji nods and hands Lena a box of ethically produced tattoo inks- the claims they give the best colour.

“It’s good to have you back, Fareeha,” he says when they’re on their way out.

She ruffles his lime green hair to hide the emotion rising in her throat, and laughs when he swats it away.

“I’m older than you, you can’t do that!”

“Well, I’m taller. Deal with it,” she pokes her tongue out at him.

“Anyone would think you were three, not in your twenties,” Lena calls from the bike, packages safely stowed in the sidecar.

It’s Genji’s turn to laugh when Fareeha slaps Lena’s visor down. As they speed away, Fareeha wonders exactly how much she had missed on. 

\--

They swing by the Junkers on the way back to Overwatch. It was a... mechanic? Scrap shop? No one knew what it was, but they knew it probably wasn’t completely legal. The two men who ran the shop were another level of unsavoury. They were known as Junkrat and Roadhog; Fareeha was pretty sure they were wanted fugitives in multiple countries, and didn’t even know their own real names.

“Hullo boys!”

Junkrat seems to glow, “g’day mate.”

Roadhog just grunts and goes back to sorting through the array of sharp things laid out before him.

“’ave you got the parts Amélie asked for?”

“And the parts I asked for? Several weeks ago.”

“Ahhhh. Roadie?”

Roadhog grunts again and waves a meat cleaver easily the size of Fareeha’s head at a room off to the side.

“Oh buddy, you shouldn’t ‘ave!” Junkrat clanks his way into the room.

As soon as he opens the door, a wave of hot air and the stench of sulphur hits them. Junkrat smiles, Lena gags and Fareeha tries to push down her breakfast. 

“Ah, here we are.”

A cardboard box, falling apart and smelling a little of dead things, is tossed out of the door. Roadhog catches it before it can hit the ground, pulling out what looks suspiciously like a grenade. He goes into the room and comes back with two boxes. He hands the larger one to Lena and the other to Fareeha. 

“I have no clue if this is what Amé asked for,” Lena whispers to Fareeha.

Roadhog wheezes in a breath, “it is. Good condition too.”

“Cheers then, luv!”

Fareeha fishes her wallet out of her jeans and hands Roadhog a few bank notes. The brake pads were nestled safely in the box, as promised. Fareeha had owned her bike for so long, she could install them herself. Seventeen-year-old Fareeha had learnt very quickly how to fix things that were broken, machine and human alike. 

With payments made and very little words spoken, Fareeha and Lena exit the Junkers.

“I don’t think that was legal.”

“Probably not.”

They poke and prod at the boxes in the sidecar until there is room for the parts.

“Can we take a detour home to my place? It’ll save some space and me walking home with these boxes.”

“Sure luv,” Lena smirks. “But only if you let me give you a haircut.”

Fareeha considers it for a moment. Technically, she was helping Lena out too. She needed a haircut anyway and if it all turned to shit, she could buzz it off.

“Okay. I’m not too attached to it.”

“Bloody hell, that was awful.”

“Nothing outrageous, promise?”

“Nothing too outrageous,” Lena grins wickedly.

They mount the bike and speed off to Fareeha’s apartment. They get stuck at a set of traffic lights half way there. Lena flips up her visor and looks over her shoulder.

“I’m going to ask Amé to marry me.”

Fareeha grins behind her helmet. Leave it to Lena to tell her something like that at a time like this.

“About damn time!” She yells, still smiling, as Lena sets off again.

They reach her apartment with only one major traffic violation, that Fareeha noticed, anyway (all the others were minor).

Her hallway still has some boxes strewn about, her preference for going back to work instead of unpacking after moving wasn’t the most helpful.

“Are you liking it here?”

“The space is good and Eadala likes the yard. And it’s nice being closer to Ana.”

“I’ll bet. You want some help with your bike?”

“No thanks. I’ll be done in about twenty minutes,” Fareeha unlocks the back door, “you know where everything is, help yourself.”

\--

Fareeha had overestimated, and had the brake pads on in fifteen minutes. Lena was rolling around the floor and playing tug-o-war with Eadala, Fareeha’s dog, when she walked back into the living room.

“Having fun?” Fareeha washes her hands free of grease and dries them on a towel.

“Of course! Aren’t we, Eadala?”

Eadala wags her tail and whack Lena with the rope in her mouth.

Fareeha laughs.

(She can’t remember the last time she’d laughed this much in a day. It felt good.)

“Ready to go?”

Lena hums, “do you think it’s too soon?”

“Too soon to go back?” Fareeha plays dumb.

“Too soon to ask Amé to marry me.”

“Not at all. You’ve been living together for… three years?”

“Four, now.”

“And you’ve been together for even longer.”

“Yeah,” Lena counts on her fingers, “six years all up.”

“Only you get to say if it’s too soon.”

“I don’t think it is. She’s the one, I know it. Have known it for years now, I guess.” Lena scrubs a hand across the back of her neck. “I was afraid I would scare her away, what with the dissociation and stuff.” She takes a deep breath, “And I wanted to wait for your opinion, because it really matters to me.”

Fareeha feels her heart clench, “then you’ve answered your question.”

“Guess I have, thanks ‘Reeha,” Lena smiles softly.

Fareeha manages to blink back the tears threatening to creep up on her. She grins and jerks her head toward the door, “we have twenty minutes until twelve. Think we can make it?”

Lena’s mouth curves into a grin of her own, “we can, and with time to spare.”

Fareeha orders Eadala back into the yard and locks up the house, shrugging on her jacket and pulling on her helmet.

“You’re on luv!”

They both leave the driveway with a screech of tyre on concrete. Fareeha silently apologises to her neighbours and hopes it doesn’t mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I tag the minor pairings like zarya/mei and genji/zenyatta or should I just leave it? They're not going to be super significant to the story, but they're still there kinda thing.  
> This was posted to make Mari go the fuck to sleep.


	4. almost-but-not-quite-full-blown crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get really fuckin gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hokay so, this is the last pre-written chapter I had. Expect less frequent updates (yes I know I updated like two days ago don't judge me) as I am back in classes and have a much heavier workload.   
> As always, many thanks to Mari for ideas and constant support!

Fareeha races through the doors of Overwatch and plonks herself down in a chair, yanking her helmet off and setting it next to her.

Lena bursts in moments later.

“Took you long enough. Maybe I should take the nickname of ‘Speedy’ instead?”

“Oi fuck off. You ran that red light.”

Amélie just raises her eyebrow and slides them both a glass of water.

“Thanks luv.”

“Thanks Amé.”

“I take it your bike is fixed, habibti?”

“Mmmhm.”

“Good. Now you can get me groceries.”

Fareeha shrugs, “all I need is a list.”

“Learning from Amélie’s example?”

“I couldn’t live with Lena that long.”

Fareeha gasps when Lena dumps her remaining water on her head, which really isn’t that much. Fareeha does the same thing, but completely drenching Lena.

“Guess I’m lucky you’re thirsty.”

Lena swats at Fareeha.

“They are both children,” Amélie says to Ana as Lena and Fareeha take off their wet t-shirts and start slapping each other.

“Without a doubt. But we love them anyway.”

Amélie hums contentedly.

“I think you should do it, “Ana fixes her with a stare.

Amélie watches Lena laugh and chase Fareeha around the shop.

“I think I should too.”

Lena shrieks and uses Amélie as a human shield when Fareeha grabs the whipped cream dispenser.

Fareeha comes to a stop in front of Amélie and raises her eyebrow. Amélie gives a tiny huff and tips her head back. Fareeha fills her mouth with cream, and steps around her to spray cream into Lena’s hair.

Lena groans, “I have a client soooon. And I don’t have time to go home.”

“Go and shower upstairs, towels are where they always are,” Ana says, tossing Lena an Overwatch shirt from Fareeha’s stash. “Amélie, you have a moustache,” she swipes the cream from Fareeha and sprays it onto her finger, wiping it on Fareeha’s nose. 

She crosses her eyes looking at it and tries to lick it off.

“Natural talent, my daughter.”

“I take after you, Ummi.”

“That’s all from your mother, habibti. All from her.”

Fareeha nods and blows out a breath.

“Hey Amé, can you tell me if these tattoos need touching up?”

“Oui, sit down.”

Fareeha straddles a chair backward, exposing her back to Amélie.

“Which ones did you have in mind?”

“The Gods across the top- pass me your hand- the Gods from here to here,” Fareeha passes Amélie’s hand from the front of her left shoulder around to her shoulder blade, over the colourful renditions of a select few Egyptian Gods. 

“The same for the other side, plus these here,” Fareeha taps the back of her neck. 

“They don’t really need touching up ‘Reeha,” Amélie says, then, as if she can sense Fareeha’s discomfort, “you can ask Satya for more detail if you’re worried about coverage.”

Fareeha nods and leans her cheek on the back of the chair. There is a soft patter of feet behind her and she assumes it’s Lena or Slip.

“You could wait another month or so and get them touched up them, if you’re comfortable,” Amélie continues.

“Maybe. It’s coming out of Summer and I can wear long sleeves to cover them up.”

“And fail to see your glorious arms with my morning coffee?”

Fareeha starts and almost falls off the chair, but a cool hand keeps her upright. It trails across the top of her back and down to a bicep, squeezing gently. At this point, Fareeha is sure her body is almost on fire with a blush.

“Nein, it’s not something I want to miss.”

Fareeha’s brain short circuits for a few seconds after the sentence is whispered into her ear. She shudders minutely, then relaxes.

“Nice to see you so soon, Angela.”

She can hear Lena losing her shit in the corner, Ana almost in tears beside her and Amélie trying to hide her laughter behind her hand.

“Lena dared me to make you blush,” Angela offers as an excuse. “I never back down from a dare, but I hope I didn’t overstep. I’m sincerely sorry if I did.” She tries and fails to keep a straight face, “I swear your entire body blushed.”

Ana snorts whilst laughing and that set everybody off.

Fareeha moves in closer to Angela, this time very aware of how little clothing she has on.

“Then I dare you,” she murmurs in one ear, trailing her fingers up Angela’s arm, “to let Lena,” across her collarbone, “to give you a haircut,” she whispers into the other ear, twirling a blonde curl around her finger.

Angela looks like she’s trying to restart her brain. 

It’s not every day you have a minimally clothed Fareeha Amari whispering things in your ear.

“Angela, what do you say?” Ana gasps out between peals of laughter at her shirtless daughter and Angela, who is scarlet from the tips of her ears to her toes.

“Uhh, ja, sure.”

“Oh this is going to be good!” Lena rubs her hands together. “You’re going to wish you backed out of this one, Angie!”

\--

Angela had to leave after they’d all calmed down enough to actually have lunch. She’d cited her break being almost over, a long walk back, and that she would come back when she had time to let Lena cut her hair.

“I’d take you back on my bike, but I’ve got a client I have to prep for,” Lena says through a mouthful of coffee.

She was pouting because Amélie had refused to make her the excessively syrupy and sugary coffee she usually drank. Fareeha had made it, and Lena complained that it wasn’t the same.

(“It’s because I don’t spit in it like Amé does.”  
Lena had just shrugged, “we’re no strangers to sharing bodily fluids.”  
Angela, Ana and Fareeha had all looked vaguely disgusted.)

“I’m sure Fareeha can take you back,” Ana offers.

“I’m not so su-” Fareeha begins.

“Ja! That will be good, thank you Fareeha,” Angela smiles at her and Fareeha finds herself nodding. 

She makes sure to flip Ana the bird as they walk out. Ana just chuckles and gives a sarcastic wave.

“Lena, Angela is borrowing your helmet. I’ll bring it back on my way home.”

“Sure thing, ‘Reeha. Drive slow, don’t scare her off.”

“But drive just fast enough so she has to hold on to you tightly.”

Fareeha flips then all off again and rolls her eyes. Sometimes her family was insufferable.

She turns to Angela, “so do you usually have lunch with my mother?”

“Every Tuesday and sometimes Thursday, for about a year now.”

Fareeha dashes across the road and plucks Lena’s ridiculous helmet from her handlebars. It had been Lena’s choice in the bike shop and Fareeha had paid for it as a birthday present.

“So you’ve heard all of the stories of my childhood, then?”

Angela laughs, “I’m afraid so. And some from adulthood too.”

“So you know about my military career?” Fareeha grimaces.

Angela nods, “we had dinner instead of lunch when she found out about your accident. We got drunk and she told me all about it. She was distraught.”

Fareeha gets on the bike and jams her helmet on. Angela does the same, albeit more gently. 

“We all were, really. I didn’t even know you then, personally, anyway. She talked about you so much I felt like I knew you.”

Fareeha nods and start the engine.

“Sorry if that sounds stupid.”

“Not at all. I understand.”

They both close their visors and Fareeha pulls out on to the street.

Angela wraps her arms around Fareeha’s waist firmly, leaning her head in between her shoulder blades and pressing her breasts against Fareeha’s back. 

Fareeha momentarily forgets how to breathe and she can feel her heart speed up because of it. 

Angela laughs and it vibrates through Fareeha’s shoulder, buzzing around her heart.

“Two to me,” Angela presses her finger to Fareeha’s neck in between her jacket and helmet, and Fareeha knows that she is blushing again. 

Fareeha almost blushes again when Angela takes the helmet off like in the movies. A hair flip, followed by a smouldering look and a wink. She curbs the rush of heat to just a flutter in her stomach.

As Angela is walking away, hips swaying, (not the Fareeha was looking or anything) she turns around.

“You needn’t go so slow. I raced bikes when I was in high school to blow off steam.”

“As opposed to blowing people?”

“Not my style,” she walks closer to where Fareeha is straddling her bike, “or my type.” She taps Fareeha’s hand on the handlebar, short fingernails scraping across her knuckles.

Guess that solves the ‘gay, European, artist or just for her job’ query.

“If you’re used to going fast, why were you holding on so tight?”

“You rode ‘just fast enough,’” Angela smirks.

“You heard that?” Fareeha squeaks.

“Maybe. Pus, you have a very impressive physique and I greatly admire it as a doctor.”

Fareeha inclines her head in thanks.

“And as an artist. You have to let me sketch you sometime,” Angela’s eyes twinkle. “Or, you could come in when we’re doing theory with the grad students on muscles. I could use you as an anatomy model.”

Gay, for her job, and an artist. 

Fareeha chuckles and wiggles her fingers at Angela as she leaves. She is left sitting in the hospital carpark, admonishing herself for the almost-but-not-quite-full-blown crush she is harbouring for Angela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a message/an ask on earp-haught.tumblr.com and Mari an ask/message on almoris.tumblr.com   
> We're more than happy to hear from you!

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Mari for beta-ing, you nerd. I'll update tags etc as I go, because I don't actually have much of this written.


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